


The Cursed Spear

by mopselnator



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Curse Breaking, Elysium, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, References to Depression, Romance, Sexual Content, Varatha only
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 15:43:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28780698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mopselnator/pseuds/mopselnator
Summary: Until Varatha is used to slay his father, the curse will not lift. A funny play of the fates, perhaps, to see him drown again and again in the styx. A test of wills, too.As Zagreus' scars stop to fade after each escape, Thanatos is there to guide him along the way but doesn’t know how to comfort his Prince when his fiery spirit inevitably grows cold.
Relationships: Thanatos & Zagreus (Hades Video Game), Thanatos/Zagreus (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 124





	1. No Need To Worry

**Author's Note:**

> A little something I came up with when thinking about how the spear 'spoke' to Achilles - maybe it would do so for Zagreus as well, but in a bit of a darker way? Let's find out.
> 
> Please enjoy!  
> \- Nate

„Must you exert yourself so?”

Zagreus looks up and wipes his face with his forearm, smearing blood all over his freshly cut-up cheek. In a weird way, it makes his cheekbone look evermore prominent.

“Why, Than, if I want a decent chance to get out of here, I’ll hardly make any progress if I don’t go all out, right?”

A signature smile spreads across his face but is immediately replaced by a wince when his smile reaches the cut, still oozing blood. Thanatos sighs.

“Ugh, Zag, you know what I mean. Just be careful.”

The toll of a bell, a flash of green light, and he’s gone. Zagreus heaves himself up using the end of Varatha, the spear his father once wielded. Sometimes, still, it seems to mock him. _You’re not as strong as him, and you never will be._ With a shake of his head, the thought is gone. He mustn’t let his guard down, not now that he is so close to meeting his mother. The rest of his battles through Elysium’s deceivingly peaceful green realm pass by without much fuss – that is, of course, until he reaches the arena where Theseus and Asterius are already waiting. For a change, it is Asterius who speaks to him.

“Short one. I shall not battle someone who cannot give their all to the cause at hand. And neither will the King. It will be a short encounter. Remember this for next time.”

Zagreus’ tongue is faster than his brain, as is so often the case.

“What do you mean by that, Asterius? Have I not beaten you both countless times already? Why should now be any different?”

Asterius simply snorts and gets ready to attack. It turns out to be a fast battle after all. Zagreus cannot seem to dodge many of his opponent’s attacks, nor can he get enough hits in to deal significant damage. Enraged by the fact, he lets his guard down even more until a fated blow of Asterius’ axe catapults him face-first into the bloody depths of the Styx. When he emerges back in the House, the phantom pain of the axe that just struck him clean in the back lingers still. A weird sensation, as usually the wounds of his last battle have faded by the time he emerges in the Great Hall. Much to the delight of his Lord Hades, this time proves to be different. A small scar decorates his cheek, and the ache in his back makes his legs go stiff.

“Had enough yet, _boy_?”

Zagreus will never get over the spite in his father’s voice, as if he was talking to a mere subordinate, not his own flesh and blood. Not even managing a snarky reply, he makes his way towards his room. He knows Than usually lingers around the southwest balcony after their encounters in the Underworld, but today, he cannot muster up the strength to face him. Not after he specifically reminded him to be careful. Zagreus knows that he must worry Thanatos, chasing after his mother without even knowing if she’ll be in the place that Nyx had described to him. After checking for new or fulfilled prophecies, he avoids taking a look at himself in the mirror entirely, flopping down onto his bed for the first time in ages. A yawn escapes him while he mulls over the situation that he had gotten himself into. Trying to find his mother is proving to be much more difficult than he anticipated – mostly due to Lord Hades awaiting him every time he reaches the surface. And then there were his more or less frequent encounters with Thanatos. After getting past the initial upset of him leaving without saying a word, Thanatos had been determined to help him out. Slowly but surely, he had come to expect Thanatos, and even caught himself feeling a tad disappointed when he didn’t. Not that he expected him to put off his work – it was simply nice, meeting his oldest friend out there. And he couldn’t help the feeling that Thanatos enjoyed their friendly competition just as much, even if he could never stay long. As he is about to drift off to sleep, he hears the quiet chime of a bell. Not as loud or vibrating as out in the Underworld, but unmistakably Thanatos’ attempt at knocking on the door.

“Hey, Zagreus. You didn’t even come to see me this time. Are you okay?”

Zagreus keeps his eyes closed and brings a hand up to his face to cover his scar. No need to worry Than any more than he already had, by the sound of it anyway.

“Oh, sorry, Than, I didn’t mean to ignore you. Really. The last one just took a bit more out of me than expected. Blasted Asterius wields his axe better than I remembered.”

Thanatos seems to contemplate his statement for a little bit whilst a thick silence fills the room. Zagreus is an adequate liar, he knows that himself, but somehow it is harder to fool Thanatos. _Maybe a sign that “Death cannot be cheated”, or something in that vein,_ he thinks to himself.

“Zagreus, look. I know you want to find your mother, but…Even at this cost? At the cost of losing your place in this House forever, and getting killed over and over again?”

“We already talked about this, Than. There is no other way for me. I have to do this. Besides, it’s a bit late to go back on it now, don’t you think? Father already treats me like an ordinary soul making a ruckus, not like a son. So, I don’t see any point in trying to be a good one for him, anyway.”

Zagreus sighs, heart heavier than he would like. Has he always hated arguing with Than like this? Frankly, he couldn’t even remember many times they had fought in the past. There simply never was a reason to. And now, there seem to be reasons in abundance.

“Tsk, as if your father is the only person living in this house. What about m-…Mother Nyx? Lord Achilles? Even Dusa?”

For a brief moment, it appeared as if Thanatos had wanted to say something else, but then decided against it. Zagreus is too tired to think more of it.

“Thanatos, please. I’m really exhausted from earlier, and I know this discussion won’t go anywhere. I’m not saying I hate living here, I just…There is something missing, and I know it.”

Upon hearing the sleepiness lacing the prince’s voice, Thanatos finally relents.

“Alright. I’ll let you rest, then. See you out there, Zag.”

Even through his closed eyelids, Zagreus can make out the flash of green the God of Death vanishes in. He always wondered why it was green, matching the pastures of Elysium. Maybe because he brings them there? Maybe because green usually means life, and he thinks it funny to play on it? Or maybe there is no reason at all. Coming to no conclusion, his pondering thoughts are soon drowned out by a deep slumber.

_Zagreus feels glued to the spot. He can see Than at the other end of the room, taking care of enemies. Without him. He tries throwing Varatha to take out some enemies on his own; but when he looks down to his hands, the spear vanishes in a trickle of smoke, not unlike Hades’ shadow technique. A slight panic begins to form at the edge of his mind as his eyes dart across the room. Where did it go? The spear is nowhere to be seen, so Zagreus decides to dash over to Than for some regrouping until he can figure this one out. But as soon as he lifts his foot off the ground, it gets sucked right back down into the slippery grass surface. It doesn’t feel like grass. The more the prince struggles, the deeper his ankles vanish in the mud-like grass that pulls him downwards like quicksand. The panic slowly creeps towards the forefront of his mind now, blurring his sight._

_“Than, help!”_

_He yells, but his throat doesn’t produce a sound. Helpless and ever-sinking, Zagreus watches Thanatos get surrounded by more and more enemies, some of which he has never seen before. Desperate tears shoot into his eyes, crying out once more to no avail. A metal clank sounds from somewhere underneath the mountain of enemies – Thanatos’ scythe. A trickle of blood. A piece of cloth, dyed red._

Zagreus awakes with a sharp pain in his chest and bathed in cold sweat. It trickles down his hair and mixes with the tears staining his face. _A god shouldn’t be able to feel like this_ , he thinks as he tries to get his breathing back under control. After a couple of minutes of respite, he heaves his body out of bed – not as sore as before, but definitely not perfect still – and goes to wash his face in the basin beside him. The split-second before he pushes his full head underwater to wash off the nightmare, he catches a glimpse of his face: Slight scar on the cheek, bloodshot eyes, skin paler than ash. After drying off slightly with a towel which promptly gets abandoned somewhere on the floor, he hurries into the Great Hall, determined to find… _Find what, actually?_ He muses the question whilst his feet take him to the southwest balcony, completely tuning out Hades’ biting remarks and Cerberus’ worried yelp as he passes them by. Thanatos isn’t there. Zagreus knew he wouldn’t be. And yet the image of Thanatos floating calm as ever overlooking the balcony is the only thing in his mind that he feels like could calm him down. Erase the fallen scythe, the trickle of blood, the stained cloth from his dream.

“Lad? A word?”

Zagreus spins around in defensive surprise, clenched fists ready to go. Achilles takes a cautious step back, mustering his disciple. Slowly, Zagreus begins to relax his body and slumps against the railing of the balcony.

“I’m sorry, Achilles, Sir. I don’t know why I was so tense just now. Just had a bad dream is all, I think.”

“Don’t think anything of it. But, do tell – are you sure you’re alright? You’re not looking too well, if you’ll forgive my bluntness.”

Zagreus manages a smile. Worrying his mentor is the last thing he needs on top of this already rather terrible day – or night.

“Not to worry, Sir. I’ll be back to my escape in a minute. Just thought Than might be around, I was going to ask him something. But it can wait until next time we meet.”

Achilles doesn’t look all that convinced at all, but it gives the prince just enough time to bow a little and dash his way back through his room and out to the courtyard.

“Hey there, boyo. Come on, hit me!”

Skelly’s ever-chipper voice is barely registering in Zagreus’ mind. _I need out. Out, just out of here. Anywhere as far away as possible from this blasted House._ In a blind hurry he grabs Varatha, innocently floating in its place, giving a small shudder as it is being picked up. To Zagreus, the shudder feels more like a chuckle. And out the window he goes, throwing himself into Tartarus once more, desperate to make his way out.


	2. No Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has taken the time to read the first chapter, leave a comment and a ♥! I honestly did not expect a single person to read it since I just posted it to have a place to look at it later - but I'm grateful you all are liking it. It gives me a great deal of motivation.
> 
> More Angst this time - we'll get to the real fluff later on, I promise. 
> 
> Please enjoy!  
> \- Nate

Usually, Zagreus despises the heat of Asphodel. The magma burns his feet – something he is not used to, himself normally being the one to burn through carpets, grass, or the occasional contract paper on the floor. This time, though, the heat offers his rage a welcome boost. Slaying through rows of skeletons, witches, and mini-hydras, Varatha hits its mark with every stab and throw. _But how long can you keep this up for?_ Zagreus pants, dashing through a potentially lethal hit, avoiding it too close for comfort. At first, he didn’t pay attention to the tiny whispers emerging within his head – he was too busy fighting. But as the escape attempts became more and more of a routine, the lull formed into an almost constant stream of thoughts, ready for him to lose focus and catch on to a phrase or two. _What’s the point in escaping, anyway?_ Zagreus hisses as a purple projectile grazes his arm, leaving an ugly wound. As if to prove to himself that it’s his own thoughts, he spits out:

“I will make it out of here, and nothing can stop me!”

Varatha chuckles at the protest – it didn’t take long for Zagreus to figure out it was the Eternal Spear itself that constantly tried to fool him into traps, enemies, or plain hopelessness. But what other choice does he have than to pick it up time and time again? Why it appeared in the courtyard alongside Skelly in the first place remains a mystery to the prince; but at first, he welcomed a weapon – any weapon – that could help him get out of the House. And there is no way he is giving up now. _I’ve already gotten used to your blasted whispering, Varatha, and it sure as hell isn’t going to thwart me off my chosen path._ Sometimes, Zagreus wonders if he always had to steel his resolve like this to put his thoughts into actions. But Asphodel’s seething heat doesn’t leave him more time to contemplate.

Finally, he reaches a fountain chamber. Short of breath, he limps over to the cooling surface that reflects his bloody image. The water does but soothe his cuts and bruises, stops most of the bleeding but not the pain. Usually, Zagreus would not indulge the fountain chamber for longer than necessary for fear of his father picking up on it and somehow blocking him from finding it again. But since last time, his escape attempts don’t have any resemblance to the usual. And so, he indulges the short respite from the scorching heat that was fuelling him just moments ago. Varatha levitates a short distance away, and Zagreus dreads to pick it up once more. He has to ask Achilles about this at some point. _Maybe such is the nature of spears, to try and spur their wielders on?_ _Then why would Varatha do the opposite?_ Shaking off the soot from the last skeleton crumbled to dust, he hesitatingly picks it back up. _Miss me already? You have to stick by me now, even if you’ll never see the fruits of your labour._ With an eye-roll, Zagreus heads towards the Bone Hydra, torn between a firm resolve and a whisper of hopelessness.

When he enters Elysium, the grass beneath his feet almost feels too cold compared to Asphodel’s fiery magma. As he approaches the two doors in front of him, he curses under his breath. _No boon…again? This is the seventh chamber without any help from up on Olympus._ The only help he had gotten so far this time came from his Uncle Poseidon, an ocean-powered cast. As much as he appreciates it, he can’t help but wish for a little more aid this time around. Nervously biting on his lower lip, Zagreus chooses the nectar again. At least he can give that away and make someone else happy.

The toll of a bell rings in his ears and his surroundings turn into an eerie green. Thanatos. Where usually Zagreus would have immediately lit up, he almost instinctively shrinks away now. _What a bother, that means less work for us._ Thanatos floats over to his friend, eyebrows knitted together upon seeing the prince’s hesitating and almost defensive stance.

“Hello, Zagreus. I’ve come to help you out.”

Thanatos never was a God of words. After all, Death needs to be straightforward. It’s not as complicated as Life, and at least the kind he brings about is supposed to offer some clarity and relief. Zagreus knows that, perhaps better than anyone else. Thanatos has always been like this, since childhood. Whenever his thoughts had become too complicated, too lively for him to handle, Than had offered a simple reply. And sometimes, in special cases, even one of his bright smiles that seemed to make things right again no matter how far in his head the prince was. _But that was then, and this is now. Let’s just hurry and get this over with._ Zagreus weakly shakes his head. _What am I thinking? I was hoping Than would show up…wasn’t I?_ He realises that all this time, he had been staring at the ground, not answering the floating figure before him.

“Oh, sorry, Than. Hey. Thanks for coming…”

He trails off, tightening his grip on Varatha and ready to throw himself into combat. As more and more enemies appear in the chamber, Death has no choice but to oblige.

After their relatively short battle, Zagreus is set on moving on as quickly as possible. During the fight, he constantly felt Thanatos eyeing him from afar. _Judging you for your poor performance. What’s the point?_ The stream of thoughts in his head seemed to intensify each time he so much as turned into Than’s direction, like a stream suddenly turning into a blazing river after a hidden turn. He hurries towards one of the doors, not bothering to check what lies behind it when Than pops up right in front of him, blocking the path.

“Where do you think you’re going, Zagreus?”

“Well, take a wild guess there, Than, I was just about to give my regards to Theseus and Asterius before you blocked me off.”

“Tsk. I’ve heard better lies from you before. What is going on? You can tell me.”

Zagreus’ eyes dart from the door to the grass to Than’s scythe, avoiding any look at him.

“Really, it’s nothing. You don’t need to worry– “

“But I _do_ worry, Zagreus! You haven’t looked at me once since I showed up. You look exhausted. You’re bleeding all over. You haven’t even picked up the nectar after our battle!”

Thanatos never usually raises his voice much, except for when he occasionally scolds his twin brother to make sure he gets to keep his job in the House. But the fact that Zagreus won’t so much as look at him makes him more uneasy than he’d like to admit, leaving a sting in his chest. His words finally seem to reach the young prince, and he slowly lifts his gaze. Red and green meet a shining gold. It reminds Zagreus of the sun, somehow. Never having seen it for real, of course, but this is the closest he comes to imagining it. And just like looking at the sun, from what he had heard, it hurts to look and yet you can’t look away. And it does hurt to look. He sees the worry plastered over Thanatos’ face in a rare display of emotions. Suddenly, Zagreus becomes aware of the scar on his cheek, the blood streaming from various wounds, and he feels very, very ashamed. _As you should. Look at that; he will never take you seriously again._ Zagreus averts his gaze again, defeated.

“I’m sorry, Than. I…have to go. Keep the nectar, this one’s on me.”

With a quick dash, he reaches the door and prays to all of his relatives above that Death does not follow. But as is widely known, even if it does not follow, Death is inevitable. Zagreus can’t even really recall how exactly it had happened this time, and he’d be damned to ask Hypnos about it. All he knows is that Varatha’s taunts had become so distracting to his mind that he never even saw the chariot coming until it had already waltzed over him, crushing his collarbone. The water of the Styx did very little to soothe the pain. In a way, he feels lucky to have died at the time that he did, though. When he emerged from the water, Zagreus more or less clawed his way out of it, legs shaking and shoulder burning in a sensation he had never felt before. Collapsing at the foot of the hallway, he readies himself for taunts from his father, but the House appears fast asleep. _Thank the Gods._ As Zagreus tries to level his heavy breathing, the haziness that had befallen his thoughts slowly lifts.

“What is that spear doing to me…?”

His whisper is swallowed by the cold marble ceiling of the House. With another burst of pain from his shoulder, Zagreus thinks for the first time that maybe, there really is no escape from the Underworld, after all. He heaves himself up and limps to his chamber, gripping each pillar for support, taking his time. With his father around, he can never be vulnerable; show any sign of weakness and he’s an even bigger disgrace. When he passes the corner of the Great Hall, he stops in his tracks. In front of his door floats Thanatos, eyes flickering over to him. Liquid gold gluing him to the spot.

“Zagreus, I…wanted to apologise.”

He raises his eyebrows in surprise.

“Apologise for what?”

“I hoped you could tell me. But whatever it is I did, know that I am sorry. I just want you to look at me again, Zag. This is…You are important to me.”

The young god feels like he is punched in the guts. Thanatos thought this was on him, somehow. That he had done something to upset him. His head spins at the thought. _What is wrong with me?_

“Than, you did nothing wrong. I’m so sorry you thought this had anything to do with you. I…Back there, I was just so out of it. Couldn’t think straight, maybe, not that I ever do, really, but anyway, nothing to do with you. I promise.”

Thanatos’ body visibly relaxes at Zagreus’ hurried ramble, but the concern doesn’t fade from his face.

“I am glad to hear it. But you do look unwell, Zag.”

“No, no, I’m just a bit tired, really. Lately, the journey through the Styx is more exhausting than anything.”

His words ring hollow even in his own ears as he realises his knuckles have turned white from gripping onto the nearest pillar to keep himself somewhat upright. Under Death’s unrelenting gaze, his legs begin to give out. But instead of hitting the floor, Zagreus is being swooped up by two bronze arms, face firmly nestled onto a smooth chest.

“Than, what are you– ?”

“Just let me help you, Zag. Rest.”

The words are a soothing whisper, and his aching shoulder begs him to give in. He gives a rather weak nod, and Thanatos floats over to his chamber, ever-so-gently resting him on the bed. Death’s touch is gentler than he anticipated. Smooth fingers trace the scar on his cheekbone that Zagreus had already completely forgotten about. Under the touch, he realises for the first time that Thanatos’ usually cooler body feels hot on his skin. Wasn’t he supposed to be the fiery one among the two of them? He’s too tired to think more of it. His eyes flutter shut as he ever-so-slightly leans into the touch.

“I’ll let you rest, Zag. And…Just know that I am here to help.”

When Thanatos retracts his hand, Zagreus feels a surge of panic rising through his body. Being alone with his thoughts, these blasted thoughts he keeps having, is the last thing his mind wants right now. He quickly grabs onto the other’s hand, squeezing tight.

“Please stay. I don’t…I can’t be alone right now.”

He half expects Thanatos to leave nonetheless, busy with work as he usually is. But again, nothing seems to be the usual anymore.

“...Understood. I won’t go anywhere.”

The last thing he registers before exhaustion overcomes him is the way Thanatos intertwines their fingers, stroking Zagreus’ hand with his thumb in a reassuring pattern.


	3. No Rest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It needs to get worse before it gets better, and that goes for Zagreus as well (sorry!).
> 
> Important TW: There is a description of a panic attack in this, as well as mentions of scars. I've also updated the tags since the fic does revolve a lot around Zagreus' mental state under the influence of Varatha (i.e. depression and anxiety). If you suffer from any of these, please take caution when reading!
> 
> Thanks again to everyone for reading!!  
> Please enjoy!  
> \- Nate

The first thing Zagreus sees when he opens his eyes is a slumped figure to his right. Leaning on his scythe, soft shadows dance across perfect cheekbones. White hair falls over closed eyes, shielding them from the flickering light. In that moment, still drowsy from sleepiness, Zagreus thinks that Thanatos looks breathtakingly beautiful. And that he had kept his promise not to leave, fingers still intertwined. He also thinks that Thanatos looks impossibly tired even whilst asleep. With no desire to wake him up, he lets his thoughts run loose watching him.

_Ugh, how I despise this blasted spear. Wish I never had to pick it up again. But giving up is still not an option. I might never escape from the House, and I might never get past father. But I still have to try. For mother. I need to know why she abandoned me. I need to know, so I can come back here, maybe live peacefully. See Than more often. Make up for leaving so suddenly. He is the only one I couldn’t say goodbye to. The Fates must be having a great time, putting me through all this. If I could, I’d freeze this moment and never leave this bed again. And I thought I could never sit still for more than a minute. What makes this different? What makes Thanatos…different?_

Amidst his thoughts, Thanatos suddenly startles, eyes opening lazily and scanning the bed – only to find Zagreus blatantly staring at him as he had been for the past minutes. Death’s body shoots upright, cheeks turning crimson.

“Good morning…Or night, Zag. Are you feeling any better?”

The obvious attempt to deflect from his own condition, heart racing and cheeks blazing, doesn’t go unnoticed by Zagreus who slowly props himself up on his elbow. Their fingers separate, and Zagreus can’t help but feel a little lost without the almost familiar touch.

“Much better, thanks to you, Than. I really appreciate that you stayed with me. I…don’t know what’s gotten into me lately.”

Not really the truth, but also not a lie. Though Zagreus knows full well it is the Eternal Spear that makes his thoughts spiral recently, he has no idea why or how this is happening. And he is still determined to deal with it on his own. _A little spear can’t possibly do anything to me, now, can it?_

Thanatos floats up and a short distance away from the bed, maybe in an attempt to calm himself down – maybe in an attempt to push down the thoughts he’s been having ever since finding out that Zagreus apparently left. But he can never push them away far enough not to seek him out during his escapes.

“Zag, I…You know I’m not good at this stuff. But if I can help you, I’ll do everything in my capacities.”

“I know. Thanks, Thanatos.”

When Zagreus smiles up at him, Thanatos feels like he is floating. _Actually_ floating – usually, the air beneath him just feels like an extension of the ground. But now he feels light, lighter than Death should feel. Perhaps this is why he keeps his distance from other people. Death is not supposed to be easy. What he offers the souls he reaps is a solemn company to the Underworld, some time to reflect and accept their fates. He doesn’t offer smiles, or lightness, or anything he sees when looking at Zagreus.

In contrast, Zagreus feels fake. He smiles at Thanatos, but the smile feels like it is cracking his careful façade open at the edges. To him, Death looks like comfort. His longing for a clear thought, for some company, grows with every passing second. The flame inside him is flickering, and he knows if he doesn’t reach the surface soon, there is a real danger of it dying out. It’s like his flame is being slowly drowned by the storm inside him, and the only calm he can gather is in Death. Both when he is floating in the cool numbness of the Styx and when he is looking at its incarnate. He doesn’t feel like he can offer anything to Thanatos in return. With the dawning realisation that, once again, he can offer nothing to the Underworld or its inhabitants, a sharp pain cuts through his cheek, back and shoulder. Phantom pain from his past wounds. It reminds him that he is God of Nothing. _Nothing at all. Better to leave than to be a burden, I guess._

“Say, Than, I don’t want to keep you any longer. Those souls must already be tired of waiting for you to pick them up. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

Thanatos considers the other’s words, scanning his face for any trace of a lie. He does find it but chooses not to say anything. After all, he knows he can’t do any more than offer his support.

“Alright, then. I’ll be off. See you soon.”

The green flash of light feels more final than he’d like.

Some time passes, and the holes in Zagreus’ false confidence grow deeper with every escape attempt. He finds himself avoiding chambers that Thanatos could show up in wherever possible. Even Death wouldn’t disturb a Trial of the Gods – to Zagreus’ detriment, since those battles are harder and more tiring. He feels like he’s spiralling. The times Thanatos finds him, he puts up his façade and plays along. If he fools Death, he never knows. And if he doesn’t, Than has enough decency not to say anything to him. Every time a weapon pierces through him in a lethal manner – chest, stomach, neck – he almost feels relieved. _Almost._ He clings to the last ounce of hope like a sailor in the depths of the ocean. But Lord Poseidon is not known for being merciful. When he emerges back in the Great Hall once again, he feels defeated.

“Do you see now that there is no escape from here, as I keep telling you? Finally finished ransacking my realm?”

The snares of his father just add to the pile of thoughts he would rather not be having right now. Feigning ignorance, he makes his way to his room, stripping off his garment and examining his body in the Mirror of Night. _What’s new this time?_ For a while now Zagreus had noticed that his scars don’t fade anymore. Most of them, still, but the especially gnarly or lethal ones stay. Most prominently the slash across his back from Asterius’ axe, and a straight line across his collarbone almost all the way down to his abdomen. The rest of the scars mostly concentrate around his heart and chest. Luckily, these scars are very easy to conceal within the House through little adjustments on his outfit. Out there, blood usually covers the scars. But when in the confines of his private space, the prince often spends time staring at his body. He’s almost forgotten what smooth skin feels like. What he looked like when the Styx would erase all traces of his escape attempts. Shaking hands dance across his body, stirring up memories of his numerous deaths. _How much longer can I do this? How much longer can I hide this? How much longer? How much longer? How much longer?_

His breathing becomes unsteady, shallow in his chest. His thoughts race and even with all his dexterity he cannot keep up in the slightest. The scars still hurt, and he feels like he might drop dead on the spot, only to re-emerge from the Styx in front of everyone without ever leaving the House. _O Gods, this can’t be happening to me. What is happening to me? Get a grip, Zag, get a grip. Get out of here as long as you still can._ Trying to muddle through his thoughts, the panicked prince all but sprints to the courtyard, grabbing Varatha and jumping out of the window right into Tartarus.

He doesn’t even make it to the Daedalus enchantment floating in front of him. When he lands on the cold stone floor, Zagreus thoughts still spin with the weight of his panic. He was never afraid to die before – well, since he can’t, anyway. But this time, the weight of his feelings make it sound so final. That if he dies now, there will be no coming back. Maybe he’ll float through Chaos’ realm eternally, shrouded in darkness. He is afraid. _But doesn’t that also sound nice? Just letting go of everything? Never having no place in the world again?_ Zagreus’ knees give out under him.

_Stop talking._

_But you know it would be nice, don’t you?_

_Stop talking…!_

_I’m just helping you see what everyone else has seen long ago._

_Stop! Talking!_

_God of Nothing, indeed._

His head explodes in a cascade of pain, sweaty palms gripping his scalp as if to rip out the headache. He is clearly hyperventilating, although he doesn’t have a word for it. He wonders if his father had wed a mortal back then, if he was no God at all, if there is any possibility that he can only die that many times before the Fates gleefully cut his thread. That he, too, would become one of the shadows in the long line waiting to seek audience with Lord Hades. The idea that his thoughts are not his own doesn’t come to him there, holding tight onto Varatha as the only thing he feels. Smooth, hot metal against his cold skin. Nothing makes sense to Zagreus anymore. Tears start spilling from his eyes as a sob escapes his chest. With no one there to comfort him, Zagreus stays on his knees, head buried in one hand, spear in the other. Riding out the waves of panic and pain. _Alone. All alone._

When Thanatos finds him there, for a second he is unsure if it’s really Zagreus. The warmth radiating from him has turned into a cold rivalling that of Lady Demeter. But of course it is him. The familiar tug on his heart strings never fails to remind him. He carefully approaches the slumped figure on the floor, cautious not to startle him.

“Zagreus…? Can you hear me?”

The prince gives no reaction – he might as well be speaking to one of Medusa’s stone figures. He reaches out to touch his shoulder, retracting his hand inches away. Zagreus is shirtless, Thanatos realises. The feeling of excitement is immediately drowned in guilt. He cannot allow himself these thoughts, especially not now. The next realisation follows suit: Zagreus’ upper body is covered in scars. Thanatos sucks in a sharp breath of air. This should not be possible at all given what he knows about the nature of Gods and the Underworld. But he will deal with that later. He softly shakes Zagreus’ shoulder. As if suddenly activated by a button, he snaps his head up. Puffy eyes are greeted with soft gold.

“Than? O Gods, Than. I- I- I-…I was just-”

Zagreus’ stops, realising his voice is hoarse from crying and there is no way Thanatos is going to let him slip away this time. _How long have I been spacing out for?_ His thoughts feel hazy, as if he cannot quite piece together what transpired from the moment that he looked in the mirror to Thanatos showing up. Dumbfounded, he blinks up at Death, unsure how to explain. Unsure if he wants to explain. The exhaustion deep within his bones is crying out for him to rest. _There is no rest for me._

“I don’t know how to explain, honestly. I was just in my room, looking in the mirror, and then everything is a blur. I was…panicking? I think. Maybe. And now you’re here. Ugh, this is so- So embarrassing.”

The last part is nothing but a mumble, but Thanatos catches it, nonetheless. He wishes that his eyes could convey everything he wants to say in that moment. That he doesn’t think lesser of Zagreus, not because of some scars. That he will always stay by his side, no matter how much time he needs to figure whatever this is out. But his tongue follows a different route.

“I can’t say I understand what’s going on, Zag. Let’s get you back to the House first…Get, um, get some clothes back on you.”

He averts his gaze, cheeks tainted with a hint of pink.

“I can’t go back there! Not right now, not…like this. I don’t expect you to understand, Than, I don’t even understand myself. But I can’t face my Father right now. Or Nyx.”

With a shaky breath, Zagreus uses Varatha to heave himself up. The weapon vibrates under his touch, almost as if it finds the whole situation entirely hilarious. _Shut up, shut up, shut up!_ It takes all of his remaining willpower to force Varatha’s stream of thoughts to the back of his head.

“Where else would you go, looking like this, Zag? You won’t defeat your Father in this state, and the House is your home. Our home. Where do you want to go except for there?”

He knows that Than is trying to reason with him, but it feels like an accusation. He can stand being accused of being a miserable son, a failure, anything. He has long been dealing with that. But coming from Thanatos, his stomach starts churning with anxiety.

“Where else would I go? That’s the wrong question. It doesn’t matter. Why should I stay, Than? I don’t belong anywhere anymore. Not in the House, not on the surface that I can’t reach no matter how hard I try, and certainly not in Tartarus.”

He meant it to sound spiteful, angry even, coupled with a confident gaze. But the hurt in Thanatos eyes throws him off. He usually knows what Than is thinking because he has known him for so long. But he rarely gets a true, honest display of emotion plastered on his face like this.

“Stay for me.”

The words had escaped Death’s mouth before he could even think about it. The fact that Zagreus thinks he doesn’t belong anywhere makes him sick. How could he think that, when so clearly the two of them belong together? If not as what Thanatos hopes they could be, then at least as what they are now. Life and Death. What else goes together, if not this?

“Stay for me, Zag. Please.”


	4. No Solution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!  
> I'm sorry for going MIA for like...a month? Uni work piled up on me and after a whole day of essay-writing, I usually struggle to keep writing creatively on top of that. And this chapter was still a struggle, hence why it's a bit short.  
> I'm still determined to finish this story, though - it just might take me a little longer :) 
> 
> Thanks for everyone's lovely comments and your patience! Let me know what you think!
> 
> Please enjoy!  
> \- Nate

“Stay for me, Zag. Please.”

The silence between them spreads Thanatos’ patience paper-thin. He knows that saying this out loud doesn’t necessarily mean that Zagreus will catch onto these feelings he keeps trying to push down. He knows that him saying this probably won’t even change Zagreus’ mind. And yet, the pit in his stomach makes him think otherwise. 

Zagreus, however, doesn’t think about any of these things. In his mind, the only way forward is to reach the surface. But he knows that Varatha is trying to stop him, trying to whisper to him – and he knows he isn’t strong enough to face this forever. Going back home feels like defeat. Staying out there in Tartarus is no option either. He feels like time is running through his hands like sand. And no matter how hard he tries to keep his palms closed, it inevitably trickles through, escaping from him. The fact that, to an immortal god, time shouldn’t mean anything has always felt strange to him. His sense of urgency, never able to keep still, had always been one of his better qualities – at least that’s what he’d like to believe. But now, it seems like urgency is the only thing running through his veins.

Zagreus lifts his head and sucks in a deep breath. Thanatos’ face is as unreadable as ever, but not because of his cool composure. This time, the emotions on his face are so blindingly obvious that Zagreus can’t decipher their meaning. The small blush playing at the corner of Death’s cutting cheekbones almost begs him to reach up and touch his face. But he resists.

“Than, I…I really don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“Let’s just go back for now, Zag, please. _Please._ ”

“That’s not going to solve anything, but-“ He swallows, suddenly aware of his bare chest and himself still kneeling. “But I guess you’re right. I mean, look at me. Hah. Not much of the grandeur Orpheus keeps singing about.”

Zagreus cracks a faltering smile and slowly heaves himself up, ignoring Thanatos’ waiting hand to help him up. _Pitiful._

“The pride of a God, I see.”

Than’s remark catches him off guard, turning his cheeks the same colour pink as Death’s own. Hovering closer, Thanatos very slowly, very carefully places one arm around Zagreus’ hips, pulling him close.

“What are you--?”

“Just let me help you for once without complaining, will you?”

With a slash of his scythe, they disappear in a cloud of green smoke.

When Zagreus’ feels his feet touching the floor again, he opens his eyes. They are in the middle of his room, as if he never left in a frenzy. Taking some shaky steps toward the bed, Zagreus’ flops down onto it, pulling one knee up to his chest to rest his chin on. And to hide his chest. His scars. He knows that Thanatos has already seen them, and that this last-ditch attempt at hiding them away won’t stop the conversation from coming up. If not today, then soon.

“You need to get some rest. Seriously, Zagreus.”

Death weighs his words in his mouth before continuing.

“Would you like me to stay again?”

His eyes find Zagreus’, calming gold on swirling anxiety. Zagreus is still suffering from the aftermath of his panic attack, so much is clear to see. What isn’t clear, though, is the tinge of excitement Zagreus feels when he thinks about seeing Thanatos asleep again. He nods.

“Very well, then. I suppose Lord Hermes and Charon can take a couple more souls than they’re used to for one night…or day.”

Zagreus sighs and lays down on his pillow. The shaking still hasn’t stopped.

The soft clink of Thanatos putting his scythe down is followed by the sound of his jewellery. But it is the shuffling of clothes that prompts Zagreus to look up. This certainly isn’t the first time Zagreus sees Death without his signature neck accessories or scythe. And it also isn’t the first time he has seen him shirtless. Then why does he suddenly feel so enamoured by the way his collarbone dances in the dim shadows of his room? The way his lips are curved into a small smile, sticking out beneath his blush? The way he shivers under his gaze, and yet can’t look away? Zagreus can’t resist but open his palm towards Thanatos, inviting him to take it in his. When he does, he pulls him down next to him on the bed, placing Thanatos’ arm around his own shoulders so he can comfortably settle his head on his. Thanatos hesitates for a second, not wanting to touch Zagreus without permission. But after the young God settles near his collarbone, he lifts a steady hand to brush a strand of hair out of Zagreus’ face.

Death can’t stop smiling his small smile, and Zagreus can’t stop looking at it. The only sounds in the room are two pairs of breath, one slow and steady, one still a bit shallow but becoming calmer as the minutes trickle down. Zagreus’ eyelids suddenly feel very heavy. But he can’t go to sleep not knowing what this is.

Is this a friendly cuddle? A little heart-to-heart moment with his best mate? Something else entirely? Maybe Zagreus hadn’t been as honest with himself as he’d thought. Maybe the stolen glances and pangs of excitement in his stomach weren’t just trivial. Maybe Thanatos’ blush is letting on more than Zagreus wanted to recognise. And maybe, just maybe, he is hoping for something impossible, even more so now that he is set on leaving.

“Than?”

The whisper is barely audible, as is the mumbled response. Thanatos had already closed his eyes, contently drifting off into slumber.

“Hmm..?”

Zagreus doesn’t dare wake him again. Not wanting to break the spell, he leaves it at a simple reply.

“Thank you.”

Finally, the shaking has subsided, and although Thanatos’ body tends on the cooler side amongst the Gods, Zagreus’ finds it pleasing to rest his cheek on something cool that can clear his head. That calms the burning urgency in his blood. His eyes close and welcome the last spinning thoughts before one falls asleep. Those thoughts one can’t control, that just float past before finally succumbing to Hypnos’ spell.

For Zagreus, his thoughts turn to the people of the surface. Many are afraid of Death. They equate him to a cruel force ripping their lives away from them. They compare him to decay, morbidity, and suffering. That much they had learned growing up. And Zagreus hadn’t missed the way it had affected Thanatos, even more reserved back in the day, to be likened to an atrocious smell. Zagreus had believed it ridiculous back then, that Death could have any smell ascribed to him at all. Now, he isn’t so sure. This close to Death, he can tell that he definitely has a smell – but atrocious could not be a less accurate description. Hints of fresh earth, full of life like a freshly sprouted plant, mix with something sweet akin to the smell of ambrosia. He doesn’t smell like Death at all, not the one that mortals envision. He smells like life, like sweet memories mixed with sour ones; smells of both good and bad, of experiences not wanting to be missed; of children and grand-children; of fulfilment, regret, joy, and anything in-between.

In all senses of the word Zagreus knows, Thanatos smells like home.


End file.
